


From Winter to Summer and Winter Again

by michael_kelso72



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, House Bolton, House Stark, Romance, The Dreadfort (ASoIaF), The North (ASOIAF), Winterfell, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21854587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michael_kelso72/pseuds/michael_kelso72
Summary: The tale of the Robb Stark's ever doting wife. All characters and settings besides my oc are creations of George RR Martin.
Relationships: Robb Stark/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

The small girl sat on the damp floor of her room, waiting. She sat hunched, dragging her finger along the floor, the digit leaving an imprint in the condensation as it went. The room was silent, no noise emanating from her, or the cat that lazily slept on her bed. She continued to wait for anyone to enter the room. Her father, maester, even her brother. No one came. She did not know if she preferred it that way, the silence, and anticipation. There was a knock. She stood, quickly to cover the cat on her bed with furs hoping it would not move. She still did not make a sound.

"Rhaenyra?" Her brother spoke on the other side of her door. She prayed the cat did not move. He knocked gently again, with a roll of her eyes she walked slowly to the door. She pushed it ever so slightly to greet her brother Ramsay.

Ramsay Snow, her bastard brother, looked ever so slightly as her father. His eyes were almost exact copies of his, her father simply did not hold the rare look her brother's had. His hair matched her own, dark as night and they both thought they shared a similar nose. She always thought he may have resembled his mother, she never met her.

"Father wants to speak with you." He spoke with an elegance that many were impressed a bastard to have. Rhaenyra looked up to him, tears building in her eyes. She would not let them fall. All she did was nod and take his arm.

Her brother had been gone for three days, he rode for Winterfell with a proposal. Rhaenyra was set to believe it was his own, but her father only laughed and hugged her. That was all she needed to understand it was hers. She dreaded his return.

As the two walked, Rhaenyra felt as though the walls were moving in. She always admired her home, the history rooted Dreadfort. Blood was spilled in each passageway, all for fun and of course, for the North. It was the home where she was born, where she and Ramsay fought and played. The place where Domeric and her mother died. It was beautiful, but as she walked to her father's study it mocked her. The memories ridiculed her, they were mere moments that only showed how limited her time was in this home.

Rhaenyra and Ramsay stopped in front of the study door. Ramsay turned to her, "I don't think it wise for me to go with you. I'll make him upset or I don't really know. If he does anything I'll be in my room." He gently held her hand, he was freezing. Rhaenyra watched him walked away before gathering her courage to knock on the door. She entered.

Roose Bolton did not love many things, he could not say he loved flaying men or tormenting others; those were more of a necessity towards survival. He did care for his past wives but love no. His sons were a necessity for survival as well but he did care for them. His last wife, Bethany, allowed him the greatest love of all, his daughter. Rhaenyra was the purest and only form of love he ever had. She was his pride, his heir, the one to continue the Bolton line even when she does marry. She was all he had. As she entered the room he smiled to her, it was not long ago he held her and told her of old wives' tales. Now there she stood, an engaged woman.

Rhaenyra looked back at her father, wringing her hands. She pursed her lips together, holding in her rage. "Father? What news has my brother brought? Good?"

Roose straightened his back as he stood from his chair, "The Starks have accepted my proposal." He saw his daughter's eyes change, an emotion he rarely saw cascade over them. Hate.

"I only just started showing signs of womanhood and here you are auctioning off my maidenhead to all of the North." Rhaenyra shook as she spoke, in a lower tone she whispered, "Why?"

Roose knew of the opportunities an alliance with the Starks had. His grandchild would be Warden of the North, a child of the Bolton lineage. As his heir and daughter, Rhaenyra would obey; she was approaching her fifteenth name day and it was time.

"Feel lucky it is not a Frey." He opened a drawer on his desk to retrieve a small package. It was wrapped in a dire wolf pelt that appeared to be worn but continued to be soft to the touch. "Here, from your betrothed." Rhaenyra held the gift in her small hands. She shakily opened the clasp that held it together. In the small case, was a ring. A gold band, supporting a shard of what appeared to be dragon glass. She smiled, the first smile happily caused by Robb Stark. It quickly went away as her father hugged her. "Remember Rhaenyra, you are a girl. You will do as I say so long as you are mine. You are my pawn in this game we play"


	2. Chapter 2

Rhaenyra Bolton twisted her ring as she sat on her horse. It did not fit, perhaps she would grow into it. She looked up again to see the sun begin to set, causing her stomach to churn. Before she left Ramsay lovingly reminded her, "Sweet sister be careful of the wolves at night, they might want to take their future lady with them." Sometimes she hated him.

They had left at dawn, the sun not yet rising. Her father insisted they travel for as long as possible. Her horse trembled with each step. No breaks were taken. She was grateful for away to get it over with. Once the sun rose, her dread settled in. Rhaenyra's angst caused her to create unsettling images in her mind, irrational but still fearful. Her anxiousness began to increase once her eyes glanced to the sky, it was nightfall. They were nearly there.

At night, the North was a beautiful sight. The greens that covered the hills appeared to turn to a dark blue that Rhaenyra imagined to be an ocean. The sky would mimic this, a purple color filled with countless stars that even the gods would be amazed by. It was mesmerizing. Even the trees, as the branches danced in the gentle wind, seemed to hold a beauty that only the North could possess.

"We're here." Her father said loudly. Rhaenyra turned from the darkened landscape to the large castle that was a few miles away. Winterfell. Her new home, a place hopefully for new memories and family. A place filled with honor. A place she wanted to be welcomed.

Within Winterfell's walls stood Robb Stark. The heir to the Warden of the North, the future of the Stark family. He anxiously waited for the Bolton party to arrive, his eyes eagerly shifting to the castle gates at any sound.

He tragically stood near his father and mother, his nerves contrasting their cool demeanor. His friend, Theon, stood behind him alongside his brother Jon, the remaining of his siblings next to him, Rickon being in their mother's arms. Theon laughed, trying to cover it up with a false haggard cough. Robb turned to face him angrily.

"What are you laughing at?" His voice cracked and his cheeks grew a slight pink shade. The Iron Island heir just smiled as he looked forward, patting Robb on the back. Robb took off his gloves as he turned forward, his nerves were causing his hands to sweat.

Theon smiled again, as banners with the flayed man of House Bolton came to view. "Let's hope she doesn't look like her brother." Robb turned to pinch him, harm him in any way but was reprimanded by his mother with a simple cold look. He remembered Ramsay Snow, the dark-haired pale bastard. The thought of his soulless eyes made Robb's stomach drop.

The sound of horses caused him to turn, the Boltons were entering the castle gates. The first men of house Bolton pulled their horses in front of the Stark family and men. Each appeared to exemplify the house words, Our Blades Are Sharp, with their maddening eyes and bloodstained clothes. Few happily held banners of the flayed man, few wore it. Then, Lord Bolton and a young girl approached on horses. The Lord of the Dreadfort held a cat on his lap as he rode, a funny sight. The girl next to him, stunning. Robb noticed how much his betrothed did not resemble her father. Her hair reached the center of her back, that reminded him of the way water waves. Her eyes appeared to be an unusual color, he could not make them out in the darkness. Robb smiled to the girl who seemed to be terrified by the mere theatrics of her arrival. She smiled back.


	3. Chapter 3

Winterfell was, what Rhaenyra considered, a warm busy castle. The heat from the hot springs left it warm, each stone never felt cold. Every resident smiled to her, an unusual practice at the Dreadfort. The castle itself was beautifully built, something that could only be compared to the Wall itself. From her room, she could see the sight of the Broken Tower, even fire could not destroy the great Northern castle. She enjoyed the castle, from what little she saw.

Rhaenyra sat on the window sill in the guest quarters, watching the daily life of Winterfell go on below her. She held her cat on her lap, barley letting her fingers graze its back. She began focusing on individuals in the courtyard and found her maids, a knight Lord Stark was fond of and her eyes landed on her future husband following his father.

Rhaenyra did not find him too attractive, he lacked the Northman characteristics she had grown used to. He appeared too feminine with his Tully looks. Yet, the young lord's actions were a mirror to his father's. It was clear he was a man of honor even just at fifteen. But will that honor last, she thought, When will he bring a bastard home for me to raise? There was a knock on her door.

Rhaenyra walked to the door, hoping it was not one of the wolves. "Father." He stood tall and coldly. His blue eyes looked down on her passed his nose.

"Rhaenyra," he stepped into her room, "I heard you wished to speak with me." He looked to the cat that was asleep on the window sill. She was too attached to it.

Rhaenyra looked back at him, holding her hands to her chest. "I did. I wish to have Ramsay at the wedding." Her father looked back with a blank stare.

"Do you think it would be a wise decision?" Rhaenyra's small voice barley interrupted her father's rant. "A decision that will no doubt offend the Starks." She turned slightly, not wanting to meet his gaze. Her sadness was evident in the way she stood. "Rhaenyra." Her father sighed.

She abruptly turned, "I simply want a nice wedding, something I would enjoy." Her eyes slightly watered. Roose then stepped closer to his child, attempting to console her. She merely stepped back.

"I will see what I can do." Rhaenyra smiled as he turned to leave. She sat in her previous spot, moving her fat cat back to her lap to retrieve Ramsay's most recent letter. She saw her father toss a box onto her bed, she did not want to give him the satisfaction of her interest. He closed the door, she slowly walked to the bed to examine the box. She slowly opened it to reveal a familiar necklace. 

Rhaenyra sat on her bed, holding her mother's necklace in her hands. It was her house sigil, adorned in rubies. She let her finger graze the bumps of the jewels. Her father decided to gift it to her mother days before their wedding. Idiotic she thought. It was one of his attempts to excite her for her own marriage. It was to be an heirloom, a hideous heirloom.

Roose Bolton was not an affectionate father, the little times he attempted to care for Rhaenyra and her brothers came off as cold obligations. He never asked her about her lessons, her adventures with her siblings, or hobbies. Her fondest memory of him was her tenth name-day, he presented her with an army and a new title. He named her his heir. This memory was also her worst.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Lady Stark's voice from the other side of her door. "Lady Bolton may come in?" After a small yell of yes, the Lady of Winterfell stood before the Lady of the Dreadfort. "My lady, I have come to discuss some matters with you." Rhaenyra then noticed how much Robb looked like his mother. She wondered if her children would resemble Catelyn. "You have been cooped up in this room since you've arrived. I would be proud to escort you around your new home." Rhaenyra held back a wince.

"That would be lovely." She smiled.

Catelyn watched Rhaenyra with a stern look, the girl walked a few paces ahead. The girl was a child, set to marry too young. She had sympathy for her. Rhaenyra's purity was clearly evident through her naivety. Or is it a game? Catelyn thought. The girl was pretty, no beautiful. Good enough for Robb? Never.

Rhaenyra's features clearly contrasted the harsh characteristics of her father. Her eyes stood out, violet that reminded Catelyn of a sunset. The only Bolton feature the girl had was her dark hair, it matched her father and brother's. She was too pretty otherwise. Too graceful.

They reached a balcony overlooking the courtyard. Catelyn continued to watch Rhaenyra in their silence. This silence was broken with cries and laughter below. Rhaenyra's olive skin reddened slightly as her eyes focused on Robb who attempted to fight Ser Rodrick with a practice sword. Her eyes followed his every movement, even when he hit the floor.

"Is your son excited to be wed?." Rhaenyra spoke in pure monotone, her eyes never leaving Robb.

"He knows his duty," Catelyn said, her eyes then moving from Rhaenyra to Robb.

Rhaenyra exhaled a shaky breath, "Do you think me a fine wife?"

"You're a Bolton, a noble. I just wish he chose you." Catelyn looked to her, placing a hand on the girl's bare shoulder. "A word for you my lady," Rhaenyra looked to the hand on her person in shock. "Do not resent him." 

Rhaenyra shook Catelyn's hand away, she picked up her violet skirts to step down the nearest stairs. 

Robb hit the floor with an obnoxious thud as Jon and Theon laughed. His hair was covered in mud, that began to crust into dirt, his face was no doubt filthy. Ser Rodrick gave him a hand and pulled him with ease. Robb attempted to strike him again only to have the knight swiftly move to the side. His face hit the mud hard. A new laugh joined Jon and Theon, a beautiful one. Robb picked himself to see his lady, dressed in a simple violet dress that seem to be the exact shade of her eyes. Rhaenyra stalked over to him, holding the hem of her dress to not get it dirty. She stood inches in front of him. "You look silly." With that, she took her sleeve to gently wipe at his face. Smiling as his pale skin began to show. "Bathe before our feast my Lord." She patted his cheek and left him in complete awe.

Theon dramatically watched the young girl walk away, nearly falling from his place on the stable. "What a beauty Robb. I wish I could," Ser Rodrick yelled to him to shut up.

Rhaenyra rejoined Lady Catelyn and nodded to her. She gripped her wrist tightly, nails digging into the dirt on her sleeve.


	4. Chapter 4

Rhaenyra sat lazily next to Robb, her hair done in elegant twists atop her head, her dress fitted tight to her ribs, and her cheeks pinched near rawness. She looked to her goblet as an unsettling feeling overcame her. More guests came to greet her and her betrothed. They merely whispered my lady and would praise Robb on his engagement, presenting him with endless amounts of gifts that apparently were also for her. What do I need with a breastplate, she thought. Her violet eyes scanned the room meeting a familiar pair of blue eyes. A smile ran across her face.

Rhaenyra's brothers were her first friends, her first sense of loyalty. Domeric, her eldest brother, played the role of her father in her early life. He taught her no differently than he was, how to shoot an arrow, swing a sword, things he believed a lady should know. After his death, Ramsay took over. He taught her the history of their family, diving deeper into their past than their father would have. He would take her to the woods, to hunt, to flay, to fight his servant called Reek. Rhaenyra became a delicate combination of the two, inheriting their ambition and ferocity.

"Pardon for my rudeness my Lord." She laughed, "But my brother has arrived." Robb lifted his hand allowing her to leave. Rhaenyra lifted her skirts and ran across the hall. "Brother!" She threw her arms around Ramsay as he lifted her from the ground.

"Sister!'' He laughed with her.

She pulled his hair gently, "You need to cut your hair. Have you no decency for your sister's wedding?" She smiled at him.

The corner of her brother's pale blue eyes turned as a smile spread across his face, each of his teeth seemed to show. "Clearly." He pulled her back to him as they both laughed. "Come. Grab some wine and let us celebrate your marriage." He walked away, grabbing two chalices before looking around to see if he had been caught. Rhaenyra followed suit, grabbing a jug of wine as she went, not caring if anyone saw.

"High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts," sang the Bolton siblings obnoxiously out of tune, as they sat against Winterfell's Heart Tree. "The ones she had lost and the ones she had found, and the ones who had loved her the most." Rhaenyra laughed as she drank from her glass again. Her brother placed his head on his knees laughing with her.

Their cheeks were bright red from the wine and cold, the Northern air was frigid like always. It blew the leaves on the Heart Tree quickly, causing a whistle to lightly blow throughout the Godswood. The whistle aided in their singing.

Rhaenyra looked to her brother, his hair was knotted from the wind. His eyes remained closed. "Ramsay," she burped. "Is Robb attractive?" His eyes opened wide. "I don't find him so." She laughed again. Her stomach becoming uneasy as she thought of her brother's words.

"I don't know. That is something you should ask, I have forgotten his name. Nevermind. Maybe he is." Ramsay looked up to the entrance of the Godswood. "I think someone is coming. It better not be a threat. I am too drunk for that."

Rhaenyra leaned her head against the tree and closed her eyes. "The ones who'd been gone for so very long. She couldn't remember their names," she nearly screamed the lyrics. Ramsay hushed her loudly before erupting into a fit of laughter. She opened her eyes as a brightness disrupted the darkness, it was a torch. "Who's there? Who is disrupting their lady's drunken bought with her brother?'' There was a howl of laughter before a name was given, she could not hear. "Come here! Come." She waved her hand to the torch holder. "I didn't hear you." Ramsay interrupted her.

"It's-"

"Shut up! I want to guess." She examined his attire, a Kraken adorned his tunic. "Theon Greyjoy!" The smile he had disappeared.

"How did you guess? My good looks? Gave away my Iron born blood didn't they." He appeared to be proud of his assumption. His blue eyes bore into hers.

"No, you're the only Stark without a wolf on you." She shielded her eyes from the torch's light. "You're their ward, my ward." Theon's expression darkened.

"I am the Stark's ward, you have no claim of me." Theon's hand went to the sword on his hip, his gloved hand tightening over its hilt. Ramsay looked between the two, dramatically hoping to offer comedic relief in his drunken state.

"Who am I?" She giggled.

"Lady Rhaenyra Bolton." He jaw clenched after he spit out her name, his annoyance obvious.

"And who is my future husband Theon?" Her violet eyes scanned his person. Ramsay's attempted to hide his laughter next to her.

" Lord Robb Stark." His face darkened slightly.

"Making me a Stark in hours time," she smiled to him. "What do you want?"

Ramsay, who stood quietly next to his sister, finally spoke up. "Greyjoy. Why must you wear a Kraken? You don't think yourself a wolf? Odd."

"Quiet bastard," Theon said to Ramsay. "My lady I am to escort you to your rooms. Lord Robb wanted to see you safe." Rhaenyra pushed herself from the floor. Her head began to spin, she steadied herself by placing a hand on Ramsay's head.

"You will not speak," she slurred, "To my brother like that. Bastard or not. You have no ranks here ward. Wrong me and I will see that you're flayed." She reluctantly grabbed his arm. "But I am rather tired. I need sleep, for tomorrow I will become Lady Stark.''Rhaenyra looked to her brother whose eyes were closed as he leaned against the tree. "Come back for him. Give him a good room," she whispered.

Her and Theon fumbled in the castle. Theon thought it wise to take the servants hallways, to prevent Rhaenyra's embarrassment. He held her hand as he led her. She thought nothing of it.

"My lady, watch your step." He laughed as she nearly tripped for the second time in the small stairwell. Rhaenyra's violet eyes bore into the back of his head, she hoped it would catch fire under her gaze. He annoyed her.

In her drunken state, a thought came to her, "Theon, take me somewhere. No questions." His confused expression allowed her to continue. "Take me to Robb's quarters."

The room was large and warm, a suitable place for two people to live. His bed was large enough, covered in layers of fur. She let her hand trail across the top cover. It felt almost like silk against her fingers. His bed was centered in front of the fire. It cackled obnoxiously loud in front of her. The light it provided gave the room an orange hue that altered to room beautifully. It's decent, she thought. Rhaenyra would be moved in by the morning, her trunks were stacked high in a corner. They mocked her.

She sat on his bed, drunkenly wondering what her cat was doing. She smiled at the thought of the cat she merely called Fat. Rhaenyra pulled at her hair in attempts to loosen the tight curls. She gave up after a few sections feel loose. In exhaust, she fell dramatically to the bed. Her legs dangled over the edge. "It's too hot in here," she said aloud. With that, she began to unsuccessfully undress. She threw her boots across the room in hopes they would reach her trunks. They did not. Rhaenyra pulled at the strings of her gown praying they would be undone. In one final struggle, her dress fell leaving her in her shift. The door opened.

Robb looked shocked to see her sitting messily on his bed. He did not know of his lady's intentions but his face reddened deeply. Her shift was see-through. "My lady?"

Rhaenyra laid on his bed, half-naked. Her dark hair spiraled out against his fur blanket, camouflaged to the dark color. Her cheeks were visibly red he could see their brightness even in the dimly lit room. Robb took notice to the discarded dress that was crumpled on the floor, her boots were near the burning wood close enough to catch fire. What are her intentions, he thought?

"Lord Stark," she slurred, "I hope you've brought wine. My brother and I's cups emptied only moments ago and I find myself in the need for more." She sat up straighter, moving her feet to the bed in hopes of making room for him. Rhaenyra patted the seat next to her. "If not sit here." Robb swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and heavily walked to the small table near his dresser to retrieve two drinks. He stepped over her discarded clothing.

He shakily poured desperately hoping his hands would steady, "I only have rum, my lady."

"Rhaenyra," she spoke in an annoyed tone. "We're to be married tomorrow the least we can do is be cordial."

"I only have rum, Rhaenyra," her name naturally rolled off his tongue beautifully. He slowly walked to her and hoped he would not meet her gaze. Robb handed her the chalice nearly filled to the rim, her fingers grazed his. "Why are you here my la-, Rhaenyra?"

She took a sip from her drink, gulping loudly. Not very ladylike. "I was bored, Theon was sent to find me. To put me to bed." Robb watched her as she looked into her cup's contents, "So why not come to my new room! See what needs to be decorated and so on. That dresser must go, too small." She fell back on the bed, not spilling the rum.

Robb sat next to her, letting his eyes look over her. She was beautiful. He looked down at his own cup, debating if he should drink. "Rhaenyra," she looked up to him, her violet eyes finally meeting his. "Why are you here?" She sat up quickly

"I was bored," her voice was a tired whisper. "And am currently drunk." Rhaenyra leaned closer to him. She delicately on his cheek. It was smooth.

"I don't want you to have regret from this meeting," he unconsciously moved into her touch.

Rhaenyra smiled at him, "No. I will probably forget come morning." With that, she pushed herself off of the comfortable, warm bed. "Come, Robb, escort your future wife to her room." She held her hand out to him. Robb garbed it eagerly.

He intertwined their fingers as they walked. He covered her with his cloak, she had left her dress on his floor. Robb laughed as her bare feet made a light taps along the floor. Apparently she forgot her shoes as well, he thought. Their steps slowed as they reached her door.

"Well my betrothed," Rhaenyra put her hand on his cheek once again. "This is where we leave one another, till we wed." She pulled his face to her, pressing her lips to his quickly. "I will see you tomorrow evening, Robb." Rhaenyra pulled her hand from his and turned to open her door. Robb watched her walk in, his face in shock.


	5. Chapter 5

"I don't know how much you drank to still be in pain. It is nearly evening,'' shouted Catelyn to Rhaenyra. The girl stood gripping the fireplace as new Winterfell maids dressed her in her undergarments. "I must get you something, you cannot be sick on this day any longer." Catelyn left the room quickly yelling for Maester Luwin.

"Thank the gods she is gone," Rhaenyra whispered as her headache weakened. One of the maids helped her turn, holding both of her hands. "I am ready for my dress." The redhead maid, whom she had not learned the name of, went to the remaining trunk in the corner. She pulled out the long, elaborate dress. It was white, adorned in red detailing that was scattered throughout. Red gems adorned the skirt and train, red for House Bolton. The front was held together by a dire wolf broach, something she hoped her new family would fancy.

The familiar feeling of dread showered over her as the two maids placed the dress over her. Her unsettled stomach became worse. She sat on her bed as they pulled at her hair, pinning it into a high bun. The red-haired maid delicately dressed her jewels on, unnecessary rubies provided by her father. Rhaenyra smiled as the maid placed her dragon glass ring on her finger.

"Do not go in there!" She heard from outside her door. Her maids froze in their actions as the door was loudly opened. Rhaenyra's head ached.

Sansa Stark was a beautiful girl with a pleasing personality, a true lady. She clearly took after her mother, with her red hair and blue eyes. Sansa was the definition of feminity.

The girl finally spoke, "You look like a princess." Sansa smiled widely.

Rhaenyra looked back to her and sighed, "I'm afraid I'm not blonde enough." Sansa laughed lowly, causing Rhaenyra to break into her own smile. "You must be excited. Why else would you barge in here?"

Sansa blushed at the comment, "I wanted to catch a glimpse of the bride." Rhaenyra stood from her spot on the bed, "Your dress is lovely." Her eyes widened as Rhaenyra's maids placed her cloak on, the flayed man of her house displayed proudly. "Your cloak is too." The sigil gave a shine as Rhaenyra moved. The darkness of the cloak contrasted beautifully with her skin and dress.

"You should leave now, you must get ready to walk down with the torch holders soon." Rhaenyra's smile lightly faded. Sansa nodded quickly and turned to leave before saying.

"I cannot wait to have a new sister." Rhaenyra pressed her lips together in a fine line. She dismissed her maids before turning back to the chimney. She let her hands grip the cool stone, grateful and hurt that Lady Stark did not return with something for her stomach. She was going to be sick. She turned to the window only to be greeted with the Northern sun setting, the sky was beginning to turn its beautiful purple shade she loved. She felt her heart rate increase. I can't she thought. Her dress felt tight, too tight. She could not breathe.

Rhaenyra moved to the bed to sit as she began to hyperventilate. Her eyes began to water, the thought I can't echo in her mind.

"Daughter," Roose Bolton stood at the door, adorned in his finest dress wear and cloak. His eyes held concern for his child.

Words would not come out. Rhaenyra merely chocked out a sob as tears began to flow. Her father rushed to her, she instinctively wrapped her arms around his torso. He stroked her hair like he always did when she cried.

Her shoulders shook with each heavy wail. "Father, I can't," she finally let go of him, "I can't." She sat on the bed, feeling so vulnerable. "I am afraid." Her violet eyes looked up at him, in hopes he would feel any form of remorse and take her home.

Roose looked down on her in pity and whipped the tears from her cheeks, "Yes you can, you are my child. You must do your duty, Rhaenyra." With that, he pulled her forcefully from the bed. She nearly fell before he began to adjust her cloak and train. "A true Bolton beauty."

Robb anxiously stood in front of the heart tree, wringing his hands as he looked over the sea of torches. His family stood along the aisle, his siblings smiling brightly at him as they tried to get his attention. He looked back to Maester Luwin, "Where is she?" The Maester shrugged lightly.

"It takes a long time for a bride to-" his words were interrupted by an abrupt silence. The gathering of people ceased talking as his bride began walking through the entrance of the godswood. Gorgeous, he thought as his eyes looked over her.

Robb's angst grew as she and her father were halfway to him, he then saw her face. She had been crying. The light of the torches illuminated her tear-stained cheeks. His heart sank slightly. He wished he could have seen her before this. Just to speak.

Maester Luwin spoke as Rhaenyra was a mere foot in front of Robb, gripping her father's arm. "Who comes before the Old Gods on this night?" Robb's eyes continued to watch over her, she looked at the Maester rather than him.

Roose Bolton's voice answered calmly for his daughter, "Rhaenyra, of House Bolton, comes to be wed. A woman flowered, grown, trueborn, a noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

Rhaenyra's eyes met his, he felt his cheeks burn as her violet eyes bore into his. "Robb of the House Stark, heir to Winterfell. Who gives her?" He did not stutter his words.

Roose spoke, " Her father, Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort."

Maester Luwin spoke again, "Lady Rhaenyra will you take this man?"

Rhaenyra's eyes never left Robb's, "I take this man." Her father led her, handing her to him. She took Robb's hand as they knelt together to pray to the Old Gods. He heard her sigh as her knees dug into the grass below. Robb closed his eyes and prayed.

He prayed for children, for his family, a strong marriage and to love his wife. To be a good, honorable husband. He could not help but wonder what Rhaenyra was praying for.

Robb felt her tug lightly at his hand, they stood together. Maester Luwin abruptly spoke again, "My Lord Robb, you may now cloak your bride and bring her under your protection." Robb hesitantly moved to his bride. She turned to him, exposing the extravagant cloak proudly displaying the House Bolton sigil. He gently lifted it from her person, thankful she undid the ties herself. Robb then passed the cloak to her father, who stood in his previous spot.

He took his own cloak off, a cloak that strongly displayed the gray dire wolf of his own house. He gently placed it on her shoulders. He felt a rush of joy surge through him at the thought of her officially being, Rhaenyra Stark.

"You may seal the union with a kiss." Rhaenyra turned to face him with a smile. He smiled down at her. Their lips met and Robb Stark was blessed the Old Gods answered his prayers.


	6. Chapter 6

Robb's arm was wrapped tightly around her waist. He was in a deep sleep, lucky man. Rhaenyra pressed tightly to his chest, stared out the window from her place on the bed. The moon was high, its light illuminated the room beautifully. She could not sleep, the actions from her wedding still fresh in her mind. The bedding ceremony inducing embarrassment, Robb's enthusiasm made her heart race. Her eyes shut tight. She felt her palms sweat.

Rhaenyra turned, trying not to wake her sleeping husband. She needed to look at him. She wanted to admire him. Her violet eyes scanned over his face. His blue eyes were thankfully closed as his breath continued its deep pace. I wish he had a beard, she thought as she gazed over his smooth face. Rhaenyra's eyes moved lower to his neck. She covered it in bites, they were beginning to bruise, she smiled. She must have looked worse, soreness already encased her body.

She tried to push his arm gently off her, it only tightened. "How are you awake," she heard Robb give a soft laugh. Her hand went to his aburn curls to push them gently back. Robb's eyes remained closed.

"Go back to sleep, no need to worry for me." She smiled as he sighed, he pulled her closer to him. Is he cold, she thought, it is ridiculously cold without clothes.

"No wife, I must. What keeps you awake?" His blue eyes opened as Rhaenyra placed her head on his chest.

She held his hand in hers, "I am overwhelmed." His hand tightened around hers, "We are children Robb, does our marriage not worry you?" She felt his chest shutter.

"No. No, it doesn't. I am happy with our union." Rhaenyra could hear the smile in his voice. She gripped his body slightly, her nails wanting to dig into his skin.

Her voice became a whisper, "Robb," he hummed in response, it felt like a purr against her ear. "I promise to be open with you. I will never resent our union." The hand that rested on her back stopped its soothing rubs.

"Me as well. I cannot picture a marriage with lies. Or lack any emotion," Robb's voice dripped with honesty.

"Thank you for your positivity, husband." She kissed him, removing herself from his chest to attempt to fall asleep. She did not.

The next morning, her new maids woke her at dawn. Robb had been gone for hours. It was her same redhead maid and two others from before. They brought in a basin for her to bathe in, each left to bring water from the hot springs. She was left alone.

Rhaenyra felt, different. She did not know if it was the blessing from the gods, marriage, or the specific loss of something. Something was different. There was a noise outside the window. She ran to it, holding one of the fallen furs to her person. Her eyes widened at the sight below her. The Bolton party was readying to leave.

Her maids returned, she had been watching the party for minutes. "My lady your bath is ready." She turned from the window, dropping the fur on the floor. Stepping into the bath was beautifully soothing, the filth of her wedding needed to wash away.

She tried to ignore the maids stripping her bed when she grabbed the cleansing oils. They were going to rush it to the courtyard to display the successful consummation. Her father and Ramsay would leave after that. After seeing the concoction of blood and semen, the only thing to show she did her duty.

Rhaenyra let herself lower into the tub, her nose grazing the top of the water. Her eyes wanted to close.

"My lady," she lazily gazed at the maid speaking. "Are you satisfied with your bath?" She wanted to say no. As the maid pulled her from the bath she looked back to the window.

The maids laying out her clothes began to giggle together. Their voices were mumbled into whispers. Rhaenyra heard the utterance of her brother's name.

She turned her head to them, "What about the bastard?" Both maids appeared to be shocked she heard them. Their faces paled as she looked into their eyes.

"Nothing my lady," one attempted to speak.

"It did not sound as if it were nothing. You laugh at your lady's brother. Do you laugh at Winterfell's bastard so easily?" She let her voice echo throughout the room."What did he do? What did my brother do that you continue to speak of it? " Rhaenyra looked down at the woman who dried her.

"Do?" Her plain brown eyes looked back to her.

"Yes," she was annoyed. "Tell me. What did my brother do that you continue to gossip about it."

"You don't need to know, my lady." The redhead maid giggled.

Rhaenyra turned her head to watch the woman making her bed, "Clearly I do and do not act smart with me. You know my family's words. Our-" she was interrupted by the maid readying her clothes.

"Winter is coming." Each laughed.

"Out," a deep voice interrupted the laughs. Rhaenyra looked to the doorway, it was her husband. Thank the gods, she thought. The maids left, sheet in hand. "What is wrong with them? Disrespecting their lady." He grabbed her shift from the bed and placed it over her head, she laughed as she pushed her arms through her sleeves.

"You came in just before I threatened to flay them." Rhaenyra pulled her dress to step into. "Do you mind calling someone? To tie this?" He rolled his eyes playfully.

"Lady Rhaenyra, I have two young sisters. I have dressed a woman before. And undressed one." He whispered the last bit. Robb held the dress on the floor for her, his wife stepped into it. She pulled it up, he let his arms trail down her arms. "Gorgeous." He moved her hair from her neck, leaving a kiss as he did. He began to tighten the strings of on her back. "Will you go see your father off?" Rhaenyra whispered her answer of yes.


	7. Chapter 7

Four months, four months of a dull routine and she was ready to go mad. Each passing day was the same, the same rude maids would wake her, dress her, and send her to have breakfast with her husband. Rhaenyra hated the rest of the day, Robb would leave to shadow his father, leaving her alone with the ladies of Winterfell. She did not enjoy having to join her good sisters in needlepoint, the dull Septa favored Sansa. However, it was enjoyable to see Arya Stark's mischievous glances and watch her failed attempts at sneaking away. The child reminded Rhaenyra of her, constantly wanting to leave to go with her brothers.

Her worst hours were spent after lunch, with Lady Catelyn. The woman insisted she must know about every corner of the castle as if it were her own hand. She must be prepared for when her time comes to be the only Lady Stark of Winterfell. Her day would simmer after this, she would take dinner in her room and wait for her husband. After fighting with him about bathing, they would enjoy one another.

Rhaenyra enjoyed intimate moments with Robb, he was hers and hers alone. Just for a few moments. She enjoyed every aspect of the way she melted into him. The way his hair would fall into his eyes with each movement he made, she happily pushed it back. She particularly enjoyed it when it was over he would lay atop her. His head would rest on her breast, she would move her fingers through his ever-growing auburn mop. She adored his hair, his eyes, jaw. Rhaenyra found herself slowly becoming infatuated with him because of these moments. Robb would occasionally mutter the much-hated, "I love you," after.

She never uttered those three words, they were not welcomed in her family. But she could not help feeling a rush of warmth and happiness every time she was in her husband's presence.

Rhaenyra was lucky enough to "miss" morning sewing. She slept in, the warmth of her bed was too inviting or was it the young man cradling her? She did not care, just grateful her maids did not wake them.

She was walking briskly to the rookery, hoping to send the letter she clutched in her hands. Rhaenyra wished to answer her brother's crude letter. Ramsay had sent her a letter the previous month, begging to know if her life was miserable amongst the wolves. Her answer would be a plain no. She fidgeted with the wolf broach that was situated on her left shoulder, it was an alien feeling to have it on. Something to get used to, she thought. She quickly slammed the rookery's door open.

"Oh!" Rhaenyra exclaimed, "Pardon me Maester Luwin, I was not expecting you. Or anyone." Her heart race began to lower itself to its normal pace as Maester Luwin merely looked up from his writings.

"Do not worry my lady, I am writing to the Maester at the Wall, Lord Stark request a letter from his brother." Rhaenyra nodded and went to the ravens near the window. She rolled the letter in her hand tightly and placed it in the closest one's carrier.

"I'll leave you then Maester, have a good da-," before her hand grazed the door handle, Maester Luwin spoke.

"When was the last time you bleed, my lady?" Her face went pale at his words. She turned fully to look into his eyes, he remained calm.

She was going to faint, "I cannot recall, perhaps befo-before the wedding." Rhaenyra looked down to her hands, to her dragon glass ring.

"Come, we'll go discuss this in my quarters. Privately."

Rhaenyra did not cry. She just laid on her bed, still in her day clothes. She did not cry even as the sun disappeared. Her maids entering her room to place trays of food near the fire did not trigger any emotion. She numbly laid in the same spot.

A child. A child? The same thoughts repeated in her mind, causing a range of emotion. She shifted her position, placing her hand on her stomach. A child. My child. Robb's child. Rhaenyra sat up, as she let her tears fall. She rubbed her stomach as the tears silently fell, making trails along her dry cheeks. They were unwanted happy, scared tears.

She undressed, placing her clothing on the chair near the window. Rhaenyra needed to see herself. She had to see the change. Slowly, she walked to the looking glass above the dresser. She did not find herself any different, her hair was the same, her face, breasts, hips! There it is, her eyes landed on her once flat stomach. It began to round, she felt stupid for not noticing. Rhaenyra let her hand fall to it, creasing it as if the child within could feel her touch.

The door opened, Robb stalked in not noticing her. "I ripped my pants today, luckily not on the ass. How was your day?" He sat on the bed to take off his boots, "How was your day Rhea?"

"Hmmm." She hummed not looking away from the looking glass, "Oh I'll sew your pants tomorrow, wear the brown ones for now." Rhaenyra continued to rub her stomach lovingly.

"No comment," he laughed from the bed. She felt his eyes on her now. Robb got up from the bed, to wrap his arms around her. She leaned into his touch grabbing his hand from lowering from to her waist.

"On that nickname? I like it. Rhea, makes me sound like a different woman." He began to kiss her neck, she closed her eyes. "Not tonight," Rhaenyra turned in his arms to be greeted with the face of a disappointed boy. "Don't be so sad, we have things to discuss."

Rhaenyra grabbed her nightdress from the dresser, quickly placing it on. She sat on the bed, waiting for Robb to undress to his undergarments. He struggled with the ties on his tunic. "Good gods Robb," she laughed, "What did you do before I was here?" She called him over to her, her fingers began to work quickly on the ties.

"Sleep fully clothed," he laughed along with her. He undressed and handed her his pants, showing her the long rip down his calf. "I was lucky it was a sparring sword, I would not have a leg if it was real. Jon owes me new pants." Robb joined her on the bed, obnoxiously causing the bed to bounce as he did. "What did we need to discuss?"

"I," his eyes held intrigue as she paused. "I am with child."

The daily routine changed after this day. She would waste the mornings by reading novels and eating as much as she could. Maester Luwin insisted on the gorging. She no longer had to venture to sewing lessons, but Lady Catelyn would come to her insisting on her moving around and continuing her "lessons" on Winterfell. Her time with Robb also changed. He would come early in the night and lay with her. He would whisper to her sweet words, whisper to her ever-growing stomach. He would tell their child about everything, old wives tales were his favorite to tell, some filled with white walkers and dragons. Her favorites were about a couple, usually Northerners, falling in love and bearing the Prince of the North. It was clearly them. Rhaenyra would giggle each time he would kiss her stomach, or blow against it and Robb would smile each time she did.


	8. Chapter 8

Rhaenyra sat leaning against her headboard, a bowl of bilberries resting on her rounded stomach. One hand-fed herself, while the other held a book on Aegon and his sister wives. It was a fluff novel, full of romance and adventure, she was drawn to it. The power, the pride. She wiped her hand on her nightdress as someone knocked on the door. With a mouth full of berries she told them to come in.

Lord Eddard Stark entered her room. Her eyes widened, she never had personal moments with him. Why was he here?

"My lord!" Rhaenyra struggled to push herself off of the bed, the berries fell to the floor and proceeded to roll. "I did not mean to be indecent." The crash of the bowl caused her to close her eyes.

He laughed gently, "It is alright my lady, this is your room. I just wanted to congratulate you more personally on your pregnancy. I have been hoping my son has passed my blessings, but he clearly hasn't." Lord Stark smiled at her.

"Thank you, my lord, I am proud to bring joy to House Stark. An heir to Winterfell," Rhaenyra smiled to him, silently praying he would leave.

"Yes, your child will be Warden of the North and the lord of our ancestral home. Not even born and he already holds strong titles," Lord Eddard laughed heartily. "I will leave you now my lady, rest well."

His words struck her, Not even born and already holds strong titles. Rhaenyra placed a hand against her stomach.

She arose from her bed as the lord left her room. She slowly walked to the closest dresser to retrieve a gown, hoping to dress herself without the aid of her awful maids. Rhaenyra successfully brought the dress over her person, not bothering to tie the ties at the nape of her neck. She covered the loose strings with her hair and lazily struggled to push her boots on. She quickly searched through her nightstand, retrieving a needle and thread. Rhaenyra dropped to the floor, her knees digging into the cold floor. She shifted her head to look under the bed and pulled a pair of pants from the dark space. With her necessities in hand, she left her solitude.

Outside, she sat comfortably in the rare Northern warmth. "And what are you doing?" Rhaenyra stiffened as Catelyn Stark's voice calmly questioned her. She was leaning against a stable post, attempting to mend Robb's shirts in private. She sat there in hopes of seeing her husband begin his target practice.

Her violet eyes shut as she answered, "Sewing."

"You are sitting in mud, ruining your dress." Rhaenyra looked to her spot on the ground hoping Catelyn would not see her roll her eyes. "You are also avoiding me."

"I am not," she became defensive. She went back to her mending, aggressively rethreading the needle.

Catelyn walked in front of her, "I will leave you alone today. Tomorrow we go to the crypts." She let her hand pat Rhaenyra's head as she walked passed.

Rhaenyra continued her work and waited for her husband to venture to the targets. She pushed through the constant pricks of the needle, she finished the tunic. How many times can you be struck in the chest, she thought. She finished one stitch, a gash across the chest that did not look better from her crooked work. "He just needs new clothes," with that she threw the tunic over the stable bars.

She sat there for several moments, pushing down on her index finger to watch the tiny drops of blood ooze out. It was fascinating. She only stopped when she heard talking. It was Robb, along with his bastard brother and their ward.

"I won't tell you." Her husband was clearly annoyed, he grabbed arrows from Theon and began to shove them into a carrier. He did not see her.

"Come on Robb you need to," Jon Snow laughed next to him. Rhaenyra had not met the bastard of Winterfell, she merely learned his name through Robb. No one else seemed to speak fondly of him, to Lady Catelyn he was lower than horseshit. 

Theon's voice spoke over Jon's, "Yeah Robb! Please!" Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, she did not care for him. He had attempted to corner her each passing month, which resulted in a scratch or hit to his face.

"No, I won- Love. You're here." Robb's eyes brightened at the sight of her while her heart raced at his realization.

"I was trying to fix your tunic. I have given up. We must send for more clothes." Rhaenyra held her hands out for him to pull her to her feet. With a dramatic heave of his breath he did. "I am not that heavy Robb."

He laughed as she walked along with him to Jon and Theon. "Your ass is muddy love." She blushed as she hit his arm lightly. Both Jon and Theon held targets in their arms, impatiently waiting for them. "We are going outside the castle walls, more room out there." They started walking ahead of them.

The greenery outside the gates of Winterfell was breathtaking, it was the true beauty of the North. Rhaenyra sat amongst the beauty, sitting on her husband's cloak. She cheered each time he would hit a target with his arrow, boo each time Theon would, and happily encourage Jon to strike down Theon as he ran to collect said arrows. She smiled each time Jon playfully denied her suggestion.

"Come on Snow, take down the Kraken! One arrow-straight thro-" Rhaenyra silenced herself as Theon returned from his short run. "You lot aren't fun. Move the targets back."

Theon looked at her as if she had three heads, "We can't. This is as far as we all can shoot right now."

She rolled her eyes as she leaned back against the grass, "That you know."

Robb laughed at their argument. He let his eyes look over to his wife, she had her eyes closed as her face was turned to meet the sun. "Go move the targets Theon, let us test how far we can really shoot."

"Fine." It was clear he did not want to do the work of having to carry the targets a mile back. Jon watched quietly next to his brother as Theon ran to the three targets.

Rhaenyra opened her eyes, "Jon," he turned to look at her. "Why don't you speak to me?"

Jon looked to Robb, as if asking permission, Robb simply looked at the ground. "Lady Stark," he mumbled. "Lady Stark thinks you would find it offensive if I did." Rhaenyra sat up.

"Clearly it wouldn't. You forget that I too have a bastard brother, who I am fond of." She moved to lay on her side, letting her hand graze through the blades of grass. "Feel comfortable with me Jon Snow."

Robb nodded to his brother as she finished speaking. Theon returned with a face red, his blue eyes bulging as he attempted to catch his breath. His hair stuck to his forehead as the sweat dripped to his brow.

"I, I moved all three. A mile away." He sat down next to Rhaenyra who turned the opposite way. "Let us make a bet. Whoever hits one of the targets at least once, wins."

"Wins what," Jon spoke lowly, his eyes holding a curious look.

Theon put his hand in his pocket, "Fifty pieces of dragon coins." He threw the burlap sack on the grass at his and Rhaenyra's feet.

Robb nodded before speaking, "I'm in." Jon rolled his eyes before giving a small I am too.

Rhaenyra sat up from her bed of grass and cloak, she looked Theon in the eye before saying, "Me too."

Theon erupted into an obnoxious laugh, he slapped his thigh with a flat hand as he continued to scream out in humor. "I am sorry," a laugh interrupted him, "My lady. You cannot possibly know how to shoot an arrow, and pregnant. It's almost comedic."

Robb gave the ward a glare, "Shut up Theon. If my wife wishes to join our bet she may." He gave her a hand to help her to her feet.

"Thank you, husband. Now let us proceed." She pushed her hands in a cupping motion as if to hint that one needed to be the first to go.

Jon stood in front of the three, he looked out twoard the targets and aimed. The arrow ripped through the air quickly but missed the first target. He calmly drew breathe, lowering his shoulders, a new arrow missed the second target. He had a look of aggravation on his face as the third arrow hit the ground a few feet in front of the target.

Robb laughed, "You're out Jon. Now watch and learn brother." Rhaenyra squeezed his arm before moving back to let him win. She placed a hand on her stomach as she watched his form move to shoot. His feet were wrong, his shoulders, she needed to fix him later. The first arrow missed, the second and then the third. His face reddened deeply as he went to stand with his wife, gripping her hand out of embarrassment.

Theon laughed again, "My turn wolves." He cockily turned his head, to shoot the arrow without looking. Of course, all three missed.

Robb lovingly gazed at his wife, he handed her his arrows and bow. Rhaenyra placed the carrier of arrows over her shoulders, a bow in hand she felt powerful. She walked to the head of the group, one hand on her stomach as she did. As she passed Theon, he obnoxiously bowed and sang, "My lady."

She looked out to the targets, they were five miles ahead of them. With ease, she pulled the arrow and bow to her cheek. The targets were barely visible, even as she let go of the bowstring. The first arrow tore through the air quickly. It hit the target. She moved a few feet to the right, with the same form and movement the next arrow hit the target. The same with the third.

Later that evening, the young Lord and Lady Stark enjoyed the seclusion of their quarters. "47, 48, 49, and 50." Rhaenyra giggled as she finished counting the gold dragons. She sat on hers and Robb's bed, wondering what she could buy with so much money. "Why does Theon have 50 dragon pieces?" Robb, who sat in a bath in front of the fire looked to her. His hair was wet, making it look darker than it truly was.

"He's fond of whores." That was all she needed to know. With the fifty pieces, she and Robb would be able to get new clothes, new furniture. "You don't want to join me." She looked from the gold to him. Rhaenyra eagerly stood from the bed to discard her nightclothes. Robb pulled her into the bath with him, which was clearly not meant to hold two grown people. Water went over the edge as she submerged herself into it.

'' Thank the gods, you smell of lavender." She sat up, sitting on his thighs as Robb leaned back on the tub's back.

"Am I irresistible now?" Rhaenyra answered him with a kiss.


	9. Chapter 9

Rhaenyra's pregnancy began as a new condition she was lucky to bare. It faded into an abrupt sickness. As her stomach grew, so did an overwhelming sickness that would wash over her every day. The nausea would last for hours, she hardly ate. She felt weak and thin. The sight of food made her disgusted.

"I am exhausted, I cannot even fathom how Robb finds me attractive at the moment,'' she whined to Catelyn as the woman braided her hair. "I am the size of a pregnant giant, I just need this child to be born." The older woman looked at her with sympathy.

"Yes, I understand. Wait until you are on your fifth child, you will begin to resent him more." Rhaenyra laughed. Catelyn had become a blessing, she saw the pain of her good daughter and tended to her needs. For five months, Catelyn Stark treated her as if she were bedridden, she did not mind. "It is your name day tomorrow. Be excited lovely." Rhaenyra nodded as she tied her two braids together with a strand of cloth. The two connected around the crown of her head, the rest of her hair cascading down her back.

"Thank you, Catelyn. I do hope to be well enough to celebrate," she attempted to push herself off the chair before Catelyn intervened.

Catelyn proceeded to fix the train of her dress, "Such a beautiful gown." The dress had bell sleeves, lined with grey detailing that mixed well with the evergreen color.

"Green is my favorite color," She placed her hands on her stomach as the child within shifted, "Reminds me of ambition." Rhaenyra took Lady Stark's arm as the two exited Rhaenyra's room.

They walked in silence together, enjoying the quietness that enveloped them. Rhaenyra led the way to outside the living quarters to the bustling courtyard. Catelyn smiled behind her. Lifting her skirts, Rhaenyra carefully walked down the steps. She did not need to wait for her good mother to show her the way.

Rhaenyra held the door to the crypt open for Catelyn. It felt like death inside, the coldness of the North never allowed to leave the enclosed space. She allowed Catelyn to take her arm again, she led her down the main walkway. After walking a few feet, they stopped in front of the statue of a girl.

Lady Stark had brought her down here once a month to learn about the Stark history. Rhaenyra learned of Bran the builder and various Rickon Starks. Catelyn thought it appropriate to teach her recent history, of Ned Stark's immediate family. She learned of Brandon Stark, who Catelyn was previously engaged to, and his father. The two had sought revenge for the kidnapping of Lyanna Stark, they were reprimanded with death proudly executed by the Mad King.

"This is Lyanna Stark isn't it." Rhaenyra let her eyes look over the proud statue, it was delicately carved. Catelyn gave a hum as a response. "The woman who caused the War of the Usurper. A strong woman."

"Rhaegar Targaryen kidnapped her, from my home. He took her, placed her into hiding, and raped her," there was regret in Catelyn's voice.

Rhaenyra went closer to the statue, examining the face closely, "She is admirable." Lyanna Stark's death seemed to affect every noble's life. Truly commendable.

"She was said to have wolf's blood. Some may see it as a trait that causes one to be rash, untamable, wild in all senses. I believe it made her strong fierce, fierce enough to endure Rhaegar's torment," Catelyn whispered to her.

Rhaenyra looked back to the statue, silently blessing and thanking the martyr Lyanna Stark. 

That evening, Rhaenyra watched her husband stressfully move about their room. She was comfortably propped against the pillows on the bed. "You look lovely," she giggled as Robb adjusted his cloak. He was staring at himself in the looking glass, something he rarely did. "So vain Lord Stark." She picked up a berry from the bowl she held, tossing it into her mouth.

Robb rolled his eyes, "I merely want to look nice for your first name day here." His hair was pushed back, held in place by some sort of fat. His attire was dark, something he knew Rhaenyra fancied.

"You look better than you did on our wedding," Robb gave her an aggravated look only to have her return it with a mischievous glance. "Joking." He stalked over to her, his boots making taps along the stone floor. Robb knelt next to her place on the bed, grabbing a berry from her bowl. She smiled, "I am curious to see how the Stark's celebrate occasions. Name days were not a typical celebration at the Dreadfort."

"I expect that from a place with dread in its name.'' Rhaenyra laughed with him. Robb's eyes brightened as he got up from the floor, he rushed to the tapestry hanging above their bed. "I nearly forgot." She watched him as he moved the tapestry aside, his arm disappearing behind it. "This has been here for weeks." Rhaenyra pushed herself into a sitting position as she heard a stone being moved, its scratching noise intriguing her. Robb walked back with a hand behind his back. "I didn't know what to get you, then an interesting thought came to mind. Have something made? Happy birthday, love." He handed her a small ornate box, it was green in color with gold leaf delicately placed in its corners. "Open it."

Rhaenyra eagerly opened the tiny box to see a silver ring. It was a thick band encrusted with intricate details. The bands supported a pendant, within it was the head of a dire wolf. "It is beautiful, Robb. Thank you." She sat up straighter to pull his torso to her, she attempted to hug him against her. Rhaenyra laughed, "It seems your son enjoys the ring too." The child within her pressed its foot against her, repeatedly moving within. "He's an active boy." She grabbed his hand to press it against the child's foot. Robb smiled to her once the child kicked again.

"I love you," he knelt on his knees once more. His free hand moving to her neck as he kissed her. Rhaenyra smiled into t it. The need to say the words back to him increased, especially once he pushed her fully on her back against the bed.

The party was loud, obnoxious, and filled with people, everything needed for an exciting celebration. Men were drunk and singing, women were whispering in corners about their crudeness. Rhaenyra loved it. She was basking in the attention of her guest and her husband. Robb sat beside her at the high table, feeding her various cakes and sweets. He would ensure her goblet was filled to the brim, she needed to be gluttonous tonight.

In the grand hall, Rhaenyra's mouth was stuffed with lemon cake, she did not care as she spoke, "Let us dance, husband." She giggled, crumbs fell from her mouth with each word. The quartet of musicians, whose music was blaring throughout the hall, began to play a fast song. She had a need to move, perhaps it was all the sugar.

Robb laughed, "As you wish, wife." He stood from his high backed chair, offering her his hand. She quickly took it.

In the middle of the hall, the three youngest Stark's danced. Arya attempted to dance alone with an imaginary partner, Bran and Rickon danced together. Rhaenyra let go of Robb's hand, stepping close to young Bran, "My lord, may I have this dance." Bran blushed as she offered her hand to him. She turned her head to see Robb pick up Rickon with one arm, the child comfortably placed his head on his brother's shoulder. With his free arm, he led Arya in a dance. Rhaenyra began to move along the stone floor with Bran, smiling to the young Stark.

The young children grew tired and were escorted from the dance floor by their parents, the quartet began to play a soothing melody. It was slow and Rhaenyra allowed herself to sway to its tunes. She placed a hand on her stomach as her child reacted to her movements. Hopefully, he enjoys music as much as I do, she thought.

Robb watched as his wife danced, her violet dress moving gracefully with each turn. Her eyes were closed, he admired her so. He moved closer to her, feeling guilty for ruining her moment. "Rhea," her violet eyes opened. "Dance with me." She smiled.

Rhaenyra grasped Robb's calloused hand, he turned her while trying to bring her closer to his person. Her pregnant stomach stopped him from doing so.


	10. Chapter 10

"Remember girls, clean stitches," the septa said as the young ladies of house Stark sat around her. The two youngest attempted to embroider a floral design, while Rhaenyra stitched Robb's cloak. He ripped it the previous night, stupidly. The bottom of the dark, furlined cloak was filthy, covered in cracking dirt that was clearly mud and shit. How can he be so disgusting at times, she annoyingly thought.

"Rhaenyra," a small whisper called her, "Rhaenyra." She looked up from the cloak to see Arya angrily whispering to her. The girl had a hand cupped around her mouth with an exasperated look on her face. She clearly believed she was being sneaky.

"What?" Rhaenyra whispered, playfully back.

Arya smiled before speaking, "Can we leave, Sansa and Septa are dull." Rhaenyra glanced at the older woman that sat at the head of the circle, she was busy with her own sewing. She then turned to Sansa, who was whispering to a brunette girl to her left. She stood up, cloak in hand.

"Septa please check my stitch work, I must leave but before I do please look." She handed the cloak to her, standing in front of the Septa's view of the door.

Septa Mordane praised Rhaenyra, "My lady! You can hardly see the new threading, well done. I hope to see you again soon. Perhaps we can put together some clothes for your child." Rhaenyra smiled at her.

She turned around to see Arya's empty seat. She left, hoping to follow the young girl. As Rhaenyra turned in the closest hallway, Arya came out of her hiding spot, "Is it safe?'' Her grey eyes held concern. Rhaenyra nodded, "Good, let's go. I would like to practice my bow stance, you can join me. I heard Theon lost 50 dragons to you."

"Yes he did," Rhaenyra looked down to her good sister as they walked. She admired the young girl. Her eyes constantly bright with mischief and she had a temper that could silence any Lord with a simple cold remark.

The two walked to the courtyard, Rhaenyra feeling comfortable enough to set up targets for Arya. She excitedly ran to collect arrows for her as well, and a bow. "You waddle too much." Rhaenyra rolled her eyes as she stalked back to the young girl who was patiently waiting for a few feet in front of the targets, "It makes you slow."

"When you are with child I will tell you the same thing, now show me how you stand." Arya broke into her shooting position, it was wrong. "No, your feet are too close together. Sister don't you want Theon to owe YOU money?!" She pushed her feet apart with her own foot, Arya nearly fell over. "Ok now let me see how you shoot." Rhaenyra handed her the bow, passing her a single arrow. The girl lifted her elbows too high, the arrow missed the target and strongly pushed through a near barrel of hay. "No! Arya, loosen your grip and relax your arms. Yes like that," Arya's form slowly perfected. "Let the arrow graze your cheek. Not so close it can cut you." Rhaenyra bent to speak at her level.

"That can happen?" The bow and arrow dropped. Rhaenyra nodded, pointing and a white thin scar on her right cheek

She then lifted her white sleeve to reveal matching white scars, "Don't release so quickly, you'll have these pretty things adorning your skin."

"Like a warrior,'' smiled Arya.

"Years of practice and I never learn. Now let go." Arya readjusted her form, letting the arrow go. It hit the bullseye. Rhaenyra and Arya spent hours shooting arrows, the girl had potential. The time they spent together only made Rhaenyra admire her even more.

That night Rhaenyra happily laid in her bed, happily secluded from the rest of Winterfell with her husband. "I heard all about your adventures today," Robb was lighting candles throughout their room, it was a humid night, rare for the north. Their window was open, allowing them to hear whatever animals laid beyond Winterfell's walls. "Arya talked about it all throughout dinner.'' Rhaenyra turned to face him on the bed, he was only in his breeches. She silently prayed he did not burn himself.

"I enjoy your sister, she reminds me of me." Her hand lazily rubbed her bare stomach as she watched him. She let her eyes scan down his back, watching every muscle moved as he lit the candle in the chamberstick. "I wish I had a sister." He turned, holding the chamberstick cautiously, his gaze meeting hers.

"Watching me love?" Robb quickly walked to his side of the bed, placing the candle on his nightstand. He sat up next to her, letting his gaze fall from her eyes to look over her naked body. She was perfect. "What shall we do? It is dark, we're in our chambers." His voice faded out as he attempted to kiss her, she turned her head.

"No," Rhaenyra giggled as his lips missed her own and caught her cheek. Robb gave an angered sighed. "Not yet, I wish to show you what my father gifted me for my name day." With a simple movement, she had him pinned on his back. Legs on either side of him, one holding down an arm. Her hand clutched his wrist, bringing it high above his head. Rhaenyra's free hand gripped a danger and pressed it to his neck. "A valyrian steel dagger, used by my ancestors to flay their enemies." She smirked to Robb, whose eyes were nearly bulging.

"Why do you enjoy playing such games with me?" She moved off him, carefully with her dagger. "And how could you move like that while being so pregnant?" Rhaenyra shrugged.

"I like to remind you of my capability." She kissed his cheek and rolled back to her side, "Here." Robb grabbed the dagger by the blade, gently. His eyes looked over the weapon, turning it slowly. It was a thin blade, supported by a simple hilt.

He handed it back to her, "Keep it under your pillow, on your person. Always." Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, slipping the dagger back into its case. "Love?" Rhaenyra hummed as she burrowed her head into her pillow. "You always wanted a sister? What about Ramsay?"

"He is not a sister. I love him but he," she paused. "He has always been different with me." Her voice began to crack, "Now Domeric raised me. He was open, honest, and willing to die for me. He ensured I was happy, I adored him. And that is all I would like to talk about my brothers." Robb made no comment.


	11. Chapter 11

It was dawn and the men of the Stark family were readying to depart for a hunt. It was freezing. Rhaenyra stood close to the castle, leaning against its walls. She stood watching Robb as he slowly saddled his horse. She gave a shattered breath, it was their first time being separated from one another. He would be gone for three days, three excruciating days.

Robb began to push himself onto the horse, with the reigns in hand he finally noticed her. Rhaenyra gave a small wave to her husband. He turned to the men around him, seeing if anyone would notice and began to lead his horse to her. The horse galloped quickly. "Came to see me off," his eyes brightened. "Dress yourself?"

Rhaenyra's eyes watered, "Yes." She looked down to the untied strings at her chest. "Do not laugh I am a wreck." Robb gave a soft chuckle.

"Do not fret love I will be back before you know it." She pushed herself from the stone wall to move closer to him. Rhaenyra then placed her hand gently on his leg. "Love don't worry, don't cry." His gloved finger lifted her chin to look at him. Robb gave her a sad smile as he wiped a tear. 

"I have never been alone here," she placed both hands on her stomach. "All my days here so far have been with you."

Robb frowned, "Think of names, for our child, while I am gone. It will help, I promise." She nodded, letting her hand fall from his leg. Rhaenyra continued to stay in her place as each man of House Stark rode into the distance. She slowly walked back to the castle gate, knowing she would find Catelyn equally heartbroken about the hunt. She was wrong. 

She found a very nonsympathetic Lady Stark in the library. "Stop moping." Catelyn sternly said as Rhaenyra looked out the window, one hand rubbing her stomach while the other soothed her cat Fat. The two were sitting in the library, Catelyn sitting warmly in a chair putting together a prayer wreath. Rhaenyra sat at the window seal covered in furs. "It gets easier."

Rhaenyra snapped, "It will, but not right now Catelyn.'' The older woman gave her a disapproving look. "I am sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for, you are just letting your emotions out. I do not blame you, especially pregnant you." Rhaenyra giggled and stood from her seat, pushing her cat and blankets aside. She walked to the nearest bookshelf searching for something to read. She was not particularly fond of the activity, but the day was quite boring. "What will you read?"

"Something with a topic of fire and blood," her fingers delicately moved along the spines of the books. She stopped as her eyes read over the title, "Queens of the Seven Kingdoms''. The book was heavy and dark. It was a black book, it's detailing done in red designs. "This is tempting, but I am not willing to glance at beautiful Targaryen woman while I myself feel disgusting."

"You are not disgusting. No, don't even say you are the size of a pregnant giant because you aren't." Catelyn pointed a finger at Rhaenyra, whose mouth was open ready to say the deprecating comment.

"I am," she whispered as she continued to look for books. "The History of House Stark, Tales From Beyond the Wall, oh I do enjoy this one Megor the Cruel. It tells the story of how the Red Keep was constructed, with a tad bit of Queen Ceryse Hightower. Pure fabrication if you tell me." Rhaenyra smiled, grabbing the book from the shelf. She waddled back to her seat beside her cat. "I should look in History of House Stark, find a suitable name for my child."

"Why not a Bolton name?" Catelyn questioned.

"I do not want a name covered in blood for him."


	12. Chapter 12

Rhaenyra laid in the middle of her bed, Fat laid on Robb's pillow next to her. The room felt cold, as cold as the crypts. I miss him, she thought. It had not been a day since he left, only hours. He was no doubt having fun, while she suffered in their freezing room. She pushed herself further under the blankets, hoping to fall asleep. Fat began to move. He ran to her head, that barley showed outside the furs and began to tap. His favorite activity for when she was comfortable.

"Stop," Rhaenyra whispered. He continued, now attempting to knead her hair with his paws. "Fat, I swear." She angrily turned away from him, only for him to continue again. "You silly cat, stop!" She sat up pulling him to her, she placed him on the floor. "Stay by the fire, you can sleep warmly." Before she laid down, a sudden pain overcame her. It was short but painful. She tried to move again, only to have the same ripping feeling stretch over her abdomen. "Oh, gods." Rhaenyra began to breathe heavily, Fat jumped back onto the bed. Her mind went blank, she could not think of what to do. Do I get up? Do I stay? Robb I need you, she thought as tears began to form.

Another pain, followed by another, it was agony. She howled, wanting someone to hear. No one came. Rhaenyra stood from the bed and grasped her stomach, water began to gush down her thighs. Gods. With slow steps, she and Fat entered the hallway. She gripped the door, another pain. Sansa's room was just a few steps away, she needed to get to her. Rhaenyra carefully inched her way down the hall. The pain was too much, I hope this is Sansa. She knocked.

No answer, she knocked again. There was a sound of a crash and light steps. A very angered Arya answered the door. "Rhaenyra?"

"Ary-" She released her stomach to grip Arya's shoulders, the girl looked more awake as pain took over her good sister. "Arya, go and get Maester Luwin and your mother. Please. Now." Rhaenyra spoke through the pain.

Arya nodded, moving around her to run down the hall. Rhaenyra slid down the door, leaning against its frame. Gods don't make me give birth in a hallway. Her thoughts were thankfully interrupted by the loud voice of Catelyn Stark. "Where? The hallway?!" She was grateful to hear hurried steps run down the stairs. "Rhaenyra, dear come." She had never been so grateful to see her good mother. Catelyn held out her arms for her, she gripped her forearms to pull herself up. More pain, her nails dug into Catelyn's skin.

"It hurts!" She cried, never letting Catelyn go.

"I know dear but come," she led Rhaenyra back to her room. "Arya get the Maester," Catelyn called over her shoulder. The two entered the dark room, the fire had died.

Catelyn attempted to situate Rhaenyra on the bed, pushing the pillows so she could sit properly. "Cat," Rhaenyra spoke. "Don't let me die." She moaned as another painful episode ripped through her.

"You will not, I won't let you." Catelyn began lighting the candles that were scattered throughout the room. "You will be here with your son and husband until you're older than Walder Frey." Rhaenyra smiled from the bed. Catelyn paused from lighting the candles as Maester Luwin entered the room.

"My Lady Catelyn," he nodded, "Lady Rhaenyra are you ready to birth your son." She was sweating, trying to calm herself. "Let me see," he lifted her skirts to check the child's progress. "Yes, my dear you can start pushing."

Rhaenyra laid on her bed, gripping Catelyn's hand as the older woman encouraged her to push. Maester Luwin knelt on the floor, waiting to pull her child from her. It was painful, for a second. Then the sun rose and a child's cry could be heard throughout Winterfell.

Miles away, Robb laughed as Theon whipped the mud from his face. It had been nearly a day since they started their hunt, a wonderful way of spending time before having a child. Jon watched the two of them laugh, silently gathering more mud from the ground.

"Can't I sit here in peace," Theon questioned as he brought his cloak to his face.

Jon, typically quiet, said, "No."

Robb got up from his spot, wanting to speak to his father. He maneuvered through the small camp searching for him, his cloak dragging behind him. After moments of trying to find his father, he saw him speaking to Jory. The Captain appeared distraught, his hands were tightly gripping a scroll. His father turned, eyes scanning over the few men. Their eyes met, "Robb!" He waved him over. Robb quickly walked to the two men. "Rhaenyra is in labor," his eyes widened, "We will leave immediately, maybe she isn't far along." Robb stared at the ground as Jory left to prepare horses for the two.

They rode as fast as they could, Robb needed to see her in labor or not. He longed to see his wife, the woman he loved. Keep her safe, he silently prayed.

Winterfell came into few, as did the sound of bells. Loud, celebratory bells for Robb's child. For his and Rhaenyra's child. He pulled on his reigns to slower his horse. His eyes never left the castle, feeling as if he failed his child.

"Robb?" He turned to his father. "You're a father, son," his father smiled to him.

"I wasn't there, I should have been." Robb began to push his horse forward.

"Do not feel like that, don't strain your relationship already." Nedd looked to his child, his first son. The son whose life he missed one year of. He would never get that year back.

"I just want to see her, if she is fine I know our child is." Robb stopped his horse as the sound of the bells grew.

"Remember my son, time and tolerance. You must always make time for your child. I will regret not spending every moment with you and your siblings, till my dying day." Robb smiled to his father, "Congratulations" The two quickly rode to the castle, the bells engraving themselves in Robb's mind.


	13. Chapter 13

Robb ran up the stairs of the living quarters, he needed to see her. Them. He moved around whatever servant was in his way, wanting to get to his room as quickly as possible. His boots clicked against the floor quickly.

He was in front of his door, it was too quiet. Robb sighed to himself before pulling the door. There she was, looking so beautiful. Rhaenyra sat in a simple nightgown on their bed with her legs hidden under the heavy furs. In her arms was their child, wrapped in a grey blanket. He could not see their son, so he slowly walked towards the two. "Hello," he whispered.

"Hello," she did not move her eyes from their child. Rhaenyra's delicate finger caressed the child's small hand. "I am so glad you're here." He knelt to the floor beside her, finally catching a glimpse of their beautiful blessing. "Here's your son, Lord Stark." The baby was small, his face pink and soothed, light patches of brown hair decorated his head. Rhaenyra began to cry, "He's perfect. Hold him." Robb took off his gloves and stood, holding his arms out. Rhaenyra handed him their son. "I don't know how long it took. I just, I just felt pain and he was here." She smiled watching Robb, his hands caressed their son's head.

"He is perfect," his eyes looked over their son. "Thank you for giving me him, love." Robb sat on the bed next to her, admiring their baby. She leaned her head on his shoulder, her finger grazing their son's hand. "He is so peaceful."

"You should have seen him hours ago, he has a great set of lungs. The bells startled him." She gently reached for the child, bringing him close to her chest. Robb placed his arm around her, continuing to watch the boy who peacefully slept in his mother's embrace. "Robb," she looked up to him, their gazes meeting. "I love you, words cannot describe how much I do." Rhaenyra kissed him, her hand held his cheek.

Robb reluctantly pulled back to rest his forehead against hers, "I love you." Their child began to fuss, stirring awake in Rhaenyra's arms. "Shh sweet boy, don't worry. Mummy is here, Daddy's here." His finger traced the child's cheek.

"He's hungry," Rhaenyra laughed as their child hit her chest.

"I'll leave," Robb began to get up from the bed, sad to depart from his family so soon.

"Why? You've seen my tits, this is your son. Why do men always feel so inclined to leave when their child feeds?" She gave him a questioning look. Robb fell back onto the bed, watching in amazement as Rhaenyra fed their son. She was a woman with many gifts.

He kissed her head before questioning, "What will we name him? Certainly, we cannot call him 'Him' his entire life." Rhaenyra gently pushed herself back into his chest.

"Aemon. Little Aemon Stark," she cooed down to their son.

"That is a Targaryen name, my father won't appreciate it." He could see his wife roll her violet eyes at his remark. "How about Domeric? For your brother." Rhaenyra's head turned to face him, her eyes bright.

"That's it. Lord Domeric Stark, heir to Winterfell. Has a nice ring to it doesn't it?" She smiled back to Domeric, truly happy to have a bit of her brother back in her life.


End file.
